


Hunger

by Impala_Dreamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Filming sex, Kinky, explicit - Freeform, rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Dreamer/pseuds/Impala_Dreamer
Summary: ~The Mark of Cain is starving for attention and Dean feeds it what, and when he can.~
Relationships: dean x reader - Relationship
Kudos: 23





	Hunger

Dean walked out of the bar, leaving Crowley and his idiot minions behind. Last thing he needed was to be told what to do. He was too powerful and gave too few fucks now for that to be a thing. No one was gonna tell him what to do. Not ever again.

The brand on his arm ached constantly since he had been reborn, but he’d learned to ignore it, only letting the urge spike when he was in the mood or around a particularly annoying asshole that deserved to die. It wasn’t as if he just walked around dropping bodies, he still had some class. But, if he happened upon a douche that was asking for it…

That was how it went. Blood and more blood. Knuckle bruises fading, open wounds closing themselves. He was unstoppable. Fucking. Unstoppable.

But he was hungry.

Not the kind of hunger that could be soothed with a stop at a diner and topped off at a strip club. Dean was hungry for something familiar, something delicious and submissive, and wet.

The craving started when he realized where he was. Roads all looked the same and since he had no destination in mind, he just drove, ending up where he ended up. The white lines on the asphalt had been his friend and lead him right to her door.

Y/N would remember him, had to. He sure as fuck remembered her.

He remembered where her spare key was, too. Dean was careful to step around the devil’s trap that was painted underneath the weathered doormat on the porch as he reached for the key hanging behind the old window’s shutter. She might have grown up in The Life, might know how to keep ghosts out of her house, the common demon, but leaving a key right by her front door?

Dean shook his head and unlocked the door. “Imma have to talk to her about that.” 

All it took was a quick hop over the mat and he was in.

The house was small like he remembered and just as cluttered. Still smelled like cloves, too. Well, that wasn’t gonna protect her from what he had in mind.

Somewhere down the hall a clock was ticking, a gentle click every second giving the place a rhythmic measure to fall asleep to. Dean’s footsteps fell on every other click; thick tread of his boots and heavy feet dropping onto the hardwood with an ominous thud.

Y/N was sleeping, lying on her back, empty face awash in the faint red light from her alarm clock. The thin sheet barely covered her, flowing like silk over each curve, tucked tight beneath her left knee. She breathed slowly; firm breasts rising and falling every fifth tick of the clock.

Dean slipped inside her room, silent and bathed in shadow. He looked around as she slept, unaware of his approach, not sensing anything as the air began to warm with his presence. Dean smiled as she rolled in her sleep, corner of the sheet dropping away to reveal a set of pale blue flannel pajamas.

“Always so cozy, Y/N/N,” he murmured, not bothering to keep his voice down.

She stirred, eyes fluttering wildly as Dean stepped up to the foot of the bed.

“Wakey wakey.”

She stretched and rubbed at her eyes with a tired hand. “Who’s there?” Her voice was caked with sleep, throat scratchy from hours of non use.

“Here there, Sweetheart.” His smile was dangerous but true. He had missed her; missed her heavy breaths as he clawed at her flesh, the muted whimpers as she screamed into her pillow. His stomach growled and The Mark ached as she blinked into the shadows, trying to place his silhouette and raspy voice.

“Dean?” Still groggy, she sat up and turned on the lap by her bedside, setting the room aglow. She was startled but glad to see him, instantly flashing a confused smile. “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second and let it slide back out slowly. “Yeah, about that-” He flicked his left hand and dropped the spare key between her knees on the bed. “You really need to hide that better. Never know who could just waltz in here.”

Y/N scooped up the key and clutched it in her fist. “Kinda like… an ex boyfriend?”

A smug laugh filled the room. “Yeah. One of those.”

The key fell onto the nightstand with a faint clank.

“So, what brings you to my bedroom in the middle of the night, Dean? You know I still have a cell phone, a few actually. It’s considered polite to call, especially after not calling for almost three years.”

Dean scratched at his jaw. “Yeah, about that-”

A click of her tongue interrupted him; her annoyance clear. “I heard you were dead. Sam dropped off the map, then suddenly everyone was back in action. Imagine my surprise when I didn’t get a phone call.”

“Well, Sam, hit a dog…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw back the blanket, tossing her feet over the side of the bed. “Ya know what? I don’t care.” Her bare feet sank gently into the carpet. “It was nice to see you, but… Get the fuck out of my house.”

Dean dipped his chin and looked up at her with big green eyes. “I just wanted to see you, Y/N/N, didn’t mean to piss you off.”

She softened but held her ground. “You just wanted to see me in the middle of the night in my bedroom? Come on, Dean.”

He moved closer, rounding the bed, big steps leading him to her side in a fraction of a second. “Well, I thought it would be rude to say I came to get some.”

She laughed and bit her lip as she looked away. “There’s the jerk I remember.”

Dean lifted his fingers to her cheek and surprisingly, she didn’t flinch away. “So…” He smirked and nodded towards the bed. “Shall we?”

Y/N took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? You break into my house-”

“I used the key.”

“-sneak into my bedroom-”

“I wasn’t that quiet. You’re a heavy sleeper.”

“-and now you’re like “hey baby, let’s do it”, and I’m supposed to what, rip my clothes off and suck your dick?”

Dean frowned as he thought up the scenario in his head, nodding when he decided it was good. “Yeah?”

The urge to slap him in his smug face was stopped only by the big thumb that traced her jaw. Y/N shivered, her eyes closing as memory washed over her. He was a good fuck, a good man, the best- but still.

“Get out,” she grit. “Now.”

The hand on her cheek dropped and Dean smacked his lips, looking slightly dejected. “You sure?”

She held her breath as he leaned closer, just tipping his chest towards her. She could smell his heat; the old familiar scent of the Impala and coffee lingering on his clothes. It was almost thick around him, that faint hint of aftershave, the cheap motel soap, the musk of him. Y/N’s head swam with thoughts of kissing him, of reaching up and pressing herself against him; breasts smashed against that hard, flanneled chest, tongues stroking with electric waves against each other. She closed her eyes and suddenly it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Dean closed the gap and gently placed his lips against hers, pushing just enough to catch her breath but staying back should she want to fight him off. Her right mind said to bring her knee up hard between his bowed legs, but her sleepy, dreamy, hazy brain said to open her mouth to him.

“That’s it,” he hummed as she wrapped a soft hand around the back of his neck. “You still taste so sweet.”

“And your breath still stinks,” she laughed, digging her nails into the base of his skull. He hissed and she licked at his mouth.

“Not that you care.” He pushed back then, swirling his tongue between her lips and stepping forward, forcing her back onto the bed. They sank together, Y/N’s legs opening automatically to make room for him. He rocked upwards, cock already half hard and pressing against his jeans. She moaned as the rough zipper rubbed through her pajamas, grinding up on her cunt.

“Fuck.” She breathed into his hair, face raising to the ceiling as his lips trailed down her throat; pearly teeth scraping over her pulse and nipping at her shoulder.

His voice was dry and cracked in her ear. “That was my plan.”

A giant hand closed over her left breast and Y/N’s entire body arched upwards, wanting to pull him deep inside, feel all of him. She moaned and called his name like a prayer. “Dean. Please.”

He was gone before she knew what happened, the mattress bouncing as his weight vanished.

“What the fuck?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes once more, this time clearing away the dampness of arousal. “Where are you going?”

Dean opened the buckle of his belt as he walked around the perimeter of the bed. “Just wanted a new angle.” He turned with a smirk and popped the brass button of his jeans.

Y/N smiled in a daze as she watched him move around, slowly finding the foot of the bed again. “How about you take those off and let me say hello?” She rolled onto her hands and knees and locked her eyes on his crotch; mouth watering at the idea.

“No.”

She looked upwards, a pout and confusion on her face. “W-why not?”

The tip of his tongue fit between his teeth and his smile was filled with devilish intent. He took his time answering, looking slowly around the room until he found something to play with: her old camcorder was tucked away on a shelf behind him.

Y/N watched curiously as he picked it up and blew the dust from its top. “What are you doing?”

He smiled as the power came on, and Dean trained the eye on Y/N. “Strip for me,” he said, voice deep as he hit record.

Her heart raced as the tiny red light came on, making her blush. “What? No.”

Green eyes lifted from the screen to her face. “Strip.”

The command was absolute and struck some chord deep inside; arousal pulsing in her cunt. “Yeah,” she said softly, “yeah, OK.”

Up on her knees in the middle of the bed, Y/N bit her lip as she opened the tiny buttons on her pajama top, careful not to reveal too much at once, wanting to give him a show.

Dean’s eyes flickered between the screen and real life; lips twitching with excitement as she got more into it, playing to the camera, exposing herself for him.

“Like this?” she asked, kicking the soft pants from her legs.

“Perfect.” He zoomed in, framing her body. “Lay back.”

Y/N swallowed deeply as she leaned back against the pillows. Sleep and his voice rang through her head, hitting every button inside, turning her on more than she thought possible. Without realizing it, Y/N had lifted a hand to her breast, slowly swirling her fingers across her stiffening nipples. Every pass made her shiver, but she remained frozen; eyes locked on Dean.

“That’s it,” he praised in a whisper, “such a good girl.”

Y/N hummed happily, her eyes closing a bit; sleepy and dazed. Her knees opened timidly as the heat grew; her left hand lazily drifting downwards.

“Yeah,” Dean urged. “Play with that pretty cunt for me. Show me how wet you can get.”

“Real wet,” she replied like a zombie, voice almost gone, breath heavy. “So wet, Dean.”

He grinned and zoomed in, capturing the slow press of her fingertips against her clit. Her skin glistened, damp and delicious. “Is that all for me?”

Y/N nodded helplessly and slid her middle finger deep inside, knuckles disappearing into her tight flesh. “Yeah. For you.”

Dean stared hard, cocking his head as she fucked herself for the camera, for him. He let the image burn into his brain so that every blink left him with a reminder of her perfect cunt.

When she began to moan, fingers working faster, legs shaking with effort, Dean called to her, stepping back from the bed.

“Enough. Come here.”

Y/N sat up almost automatically, hands dropping to the mattress as she rolled over and crawled to him, her chin up towards the camera, her eyes rolling, pussy juices dripping down her legs.

Dean unzipped his jeans and let them fall, stopped only by the tops of his boots.

“Flip over,” he ordered, yanking his boxers down. “Head over the side.”

Y/N held her breath as she got into position, back flat on the bed, neck stretching parallel to the floor as her head hung down over the edge.

Dean fisted his cock and pumped a few times, watching the pulse in her exposed throat beat faster. “Perfect. Open up.”

He aimed the camera downwards, immortalizing the moment he slid inside her waiting lips. She moaned happily as he pushed deep inside, watching as his cock passed down her throat, pushing at her delicate skin from the inside out. She choked as her neck bulged, and Dean thrust harder.

“Fuck, so deep.” His hips snapped against her forehead, shaking her entire body as he fucked her mouth without care.

She lost her breath as he went deeper; spit rolling down her cheeks, thicker with every push of his thick cock. When her lungs began to protest, she tried to scream, to warn him, but all that came out was a meek whine. She clawed at the sheets, then his hips, digging her nails into the dips of his waist, begging for a break.

The camera shook as Dean bent over, hooking one foot on the bed and dipping down deep. The new angle allowed her a single breath, but no true relief as her lips began to swell and her throat went numb around him.

“So good, Sweetheart,” he growled, pulsing the tip of his dick between her puffy lips. “My own little pornstar. Taking my cock like a pro.”

A final cry pushed up from the back of her throat and Dean showed an ounce of mercy, pulling free of her tight mouth with a wet pop. He zoomed close on the red mess that was her lips; cheeks stained by lines of spit, jaw sore and hanging.

“So beautiful.” He stood up and let the lens trail down her naked body. “Think I’ll wreck that pussy next. Scoot up, spread your legs.”

Invisible strings moved her body; Y/N couldn’t consciously decide to move a muscle, but she went, setting her ass in the middle of the bed, giving her neck a rest against the soft comforter.

Dean placed the camera back on the shelf, careful to aim it perfectly at the bed. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Y/N lay there, waiting, drifting, empty. She felt the bed dip as Dean crawled over her, felt the heat from his now bare chest as it pressed down onto her. His lips were hot on her ear. His breath heavy, voice rough.

“Smile pretty for the camera, girl.”

She held in a scream as Dean pushed away, up on his knees as he thrust into her, thick cock stretching her open. She tensed at the pain and he smiled, green eyes blinking to black.

“Dean!” Fright and confusion ran through her veins and she pushed at his arms, trying to get away. “What the fuck!”

The oil slick remained as Dean fucked her harder, one giant hand pinning her wrists together above her head, the other closing over her mouth. “Shhh.” He smirked. “Thought you knew, Sweetheart. Haven’t been keeping up with the gossip much, I see.”

Y/N bit down hard on his palm and he flinched, pulling away. “Exorcizamus te!”

Dean laughed and wrapped his long fingers around her throat, cutting off her words. “That ain’t gonna work,” he sneered, leaning close so his breath flowed over her lips. “I’m not possessed. Just better.”

She gasped, eyes wide and unfocused. “Dean!”

His grip loosened but his thrusts did not ease, ramming into her without pause or finesse. He set his eyes on the lens as they flipped back to pure green; playing for the camera, upper lip pulled back into a sneer as her body tightened around him.

“Oh, gonna cum for me?” His laugh was dark, his fingers bruising her skin wherever they fell. “Can’t help it, can you?”

Y/N shook her head in protest, but couldn’t resist, hips rising to meet every push, bliss growing like a firecracker in her gut. “Please…harder.”

Dean laughed and let her hands go as he readjusted, holding himself up above her. “That’s my girl.” 

“Fuck!” The fire would not hold and Y/N came with a scream, entire body shaking as the pleasure ran upwards, blanking out any care of the danger that fucked her senseless.

Dean grunted as she clenched down on him. “Oh, just like that. Fuck.”

He moved impossibly faster, slamming into her so hard each pop took her breath away. He tore into her, not relenting until he pulled another orgasm from her. Her eyes rolled and her legs fell weak against his thighs.

With a growl, Dean pulled out and fisted his cock, watching her heaving chest as he pumped himself. “Don’t move.”

She moaned, head lolling to the side as he came, spraying hot and creamy white against her belly and tits.

When he was done, Dean leaned down and scooped up his mess with two fingers, bringing it to her lips. “Clean yourself up.” He shoved his hand into her mouth and she licked, mindlessly sucking him clean, swallowing him down. “That’s fucking hot as fuck, Y/N. Makes me wanna go again.”

She moaned pitifully, spent and trapped beneath him.

“But…nah.”

Suddenly, he was gone and the cold air washed across her body. “W-where are you going?” She tried to turn, but her body ached; every bit of her exhausted and limp.

“Why the fuck should I tell you?” he asked, half amused by her question.

“I- Dean…what happened to you?”

He laughed to himself as he zipped up and tossed the flannel over his shoulders. “Long story,” he said absently, “and I don’t feel like stickin’ around for the pillow talk.”

“Dean-”

He ignored her, reaching into the camcorder to take out the tape. “Here,” he said, tossing the mini film onto her stomach. “Something to remember me by.”

She rolled over just in time to see him open the door, slipping back into the dark hallway just as quietly as he came. “Dean!”

The roads were all the same; white lines and black top, bit of debris kicking the tires. Dean drove fast and reckless beneath the bright moon, not a care in his head, no destination in mind.

His stomach growled and he searched the exit sign for a rest stop.

The Mark burned but he ignored it. He’d find some shithead to sink his blade into before the sun came up, of that he was sure. But for now- a burger would do.


End file.
